


won't let you fall

by schittyfic (sixtysevenlmpala)



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Anal Sex, Begging, David is...thirsty, Husbands, Laughter During Sex, Light-Hearted, M/M, Patrick Brewer is a Troll, Patrick has been WORKING OUT, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Canon, Sexting, Strength Kink, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:35:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27454354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sixtysevenlmpala/pseuds/schittyfic
Summary: Patrick’s still typing, the tiniest smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. “But you like the idea.”“Well - yes. Objectively, if you could do that without dropping me and doing irreparable damage to both my body and my self-esteem, that would be…okay.”“Hm.” Patrick glances at him just momentarily, and his smile is knowing, like he sees right through him. “Thought so.”Or: Patrick's been working out, and David really, really appreciates it. He's unconvinced Patrick can hold him up against a wall, but he is definitely interested in finding out.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 47
Kudos: 322
Collections: Politics? What Politics?





	won't let you fall

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes you have to write celebratory porn because Trump lost the election. This is... that.
> 
> Congrats, USA!
> 
> Enjoy <3

They’re on the couch, Patrick tapping away at his notes for a speech he’s giving at a small business conference in a few days, David tucked up with a book and a mug of steaming tea, their record player low and gentle in the background. It’s peaceful and domestic, a usual, mundane, evening. So when Patrick casually speaks up without taking his eyes from his laptop screen, David thinks he can be forgiven for almost snorting his tea out of his nose.

“How would you feel if I picked you up and fucked you?”

David coughs and splutters and stares at his neat and tidy husband.

“You know, against the wall, or something.”

David has never blinked so rapidly in his life. His skin suddenly feels warm and tingly. “Um. I - I think - I don’t know if - I’m probably too heavy. For that.”

Patrick’s still typing, the tiniest smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. “But you like the idea.”

“Well - yes. Objectively, if you could do that without dropping me and doing irreparable damage to both my body and my self-esteem, that would be… _okay_.”

“Hm.” Patrick glances at him just momentarily, and his smile is knowing, like he sees right through him. “Thought so.”

And he just keeps typing.

*

The thing is, Patrick’s been working out. He’s been working out a _lot_ , in fact.

David’s always loved Patrick’s body; he’s stocky and firm and strong in a way that David isn’t, some kind of core strength which means he can pin David down and push him around in the most delicious ways, making him feel small and vulnerable despite the height disparity. He’s always loved how meaty and firm his thighs are, how they can lock around his head like a vice and trap him exactly where Patrick wants him, how they piston relentlessly as Patrick rides his dick. He’s always loved the softness around his hips and his waist, toned muscle just hiding underneath a layer of grabbable cushioning perfect for David to sink his fingers into. 

It’s not like there’s much different, physically; his waist is a little narrower, and his shoulders seem broader somehow, or maybe it's just the way he's carrying himself. He’s not _ripped_ , still soft in all the most delicious ways and David’s glad of that. But there’s been a definite… _filling out_ , especially in his arms and his upper body, making him vaguely triangle-shaped and David would be lying if he didn’t admit that it’s stupidly fucking hot.

He hasn’t needed to admit it, though. It’s been ridiculously obvious. 

When they’d had a big delivery the other week, and Patrick had easily lifted a box they would have previously shared the weight of, his biceps straining against his shirt sleeves.

When Patrick had stepped out of the bathroom, shower-pink with a towel slung low on his hips, and David had noticed the defined ‘v’ of his hips which hadn’t been there before, pointing tantalisingly to what lay underneath.

Even when Patrick had been cooking, rigorously beating a mixture of ingredients with the bowl tucked under one arm and his other furiously working a wooden spoon, muscles shifting in his arms and shoulders.

Each time, David couldn’t stop himself from staring, his mind helpfully providing a host of filthy uses for that new-found strength - and each time, he came back to reality to find Patrick looking right at him, grinning like the smug little shit that he is. 

So, yeah, the question isn’t exactly a shot in the dark. 

*

Over the next few days, David can’t help but notice Patrick seems to be… testing things out.

In the storeroom, a snatched moment on a quiet morning where they momentarily forget they have an entire house of their own to do this in, David finds himself suddenly pinned to the wall by two firm hands wrapped around his hips. He grins - it’s a familiar game, this push-and-pull, and he pants into Patrick’s mouth as he drives his hips forward against the grip - but he doesn’t move. Patrick’s hands are rock-solid and immovable, and he’s just _laughing_ as David struggles helplessly. David almost comes in his fucking drop-crotch shorts.

A couple of days after, they’ve had a nice few glasses of wine with dinner and they’re stumbling into their bedroom, David looping his arms loosely around Patrick’s neck as Patrick walks him backwards towards their bed, kissing him all languid and luxurious. He’s totally lost in Patrick’s mouth, Patrick’s dick pressing into his thigh, Patrick’s hands smoothing down his back - down, down, down - until they suddenly grab his ass and haul him _up_ , and David yelps because his feet are off the fucking _floor_ , just for a moment before he’s thrown unceremoniously onto the mattress. He stares up at his husband, wide-eyed and so turned on he can’t think, and Patrick smiles, bright and unruffled.

Patrick holding him up and fucking him against a wall has never really featured in his fantasies - in David’s mind, it just won’t work, so there’s no point dwelling on it. David is a _big person_ , he’s tall and broad and carrying far more extra podge than he’s happy with. He’s vaguely aware that what he sees in the mirror might not be totally accurate, but he knows what the scales tell him, and he knows that Patrick is considerably smaller. Patrick would struggle to lift him, or wouldn’t be able to for more than a minute, and they’d have to stop and David would be mortified and probably stuff his face with comfort-pancakes the next day, which wouldn’t help anything.

But - _but_. With each little push from Patrick, he’s wondering if he might have underestimated him. Maybe this new workout regimen is enough to - well, to _try_ , at least.

*

_Hey, honey. I’m almost done here._

_Hope you’ve had a restful day off._

_restful? why restful_

_oh god you’re not making us do another 6am inventory count tomorrow_

_i meant it when i said i’d divorce you_

_Then who would make sure the inventory was done?_

_Anyway, nope. Not that._

_Just wanted to make sure you conserved your energy for tonight._

_…_

_interesting_

_explain_

_Do I really need to?_

_Get yourself ready for me, David._

_I want you nice and wet and open when I’m home._

_‘please’ would be nice_

_Oh, I’m sorry. *Please* fuck yourself open with your fingers so I can_ _slide my cock inside you as soon as I get there._

_godddd_

_okay yep_

_yes_

_remind me how long until you’re home??_

*

When Patrick lets himself in, David is actually standing right by the door. He’s a ball of anxious, turned-on energy and he can’t decide whether to wait on the bed and try to look sexy, or to just watch some TV and go for casual nonchalance, so he just ends up hovering here. Patrick smiles and drops his bag down by the door, two quick strides towards him and he’s kissing him so sweet and perfect, a tender contrast to the way his hands instantly slip beneath his sweatpants and grope his ass.

David’s already hard, has been since the fucking texts, since he fingered himself open on their bed with Patrick’s name on his lips - Patrick shushes the desperate moan out of his mouth and slides a finger between his cheeks, pressing at his hole. “So good for me, David,” he murmurs with a pleased chuckle when the muscle gives easily, slick with lube and so fucking ready. 

Before he knows what’s happening, David’s back slams into the front door, Patrick kissing and biting at his lips, jaw, neck, tugging the collar of his sweater down to reach his collarbones - David would usually gripe at him, but not today. “Fuck me,” he gasps, and Patrick grins and shoves David’s sweatpants down.

“Legs around me,” is all the warning he gets, and then he’s being lifted off his feet, hands grabbing at Patrick’s shoulders and his thighs obediently locking around his waist.

“Oh my god, you’re actually...” 

“Uh-huh.”

“You’re _holding me up_ \--”

“Yep.”

David doesn’t know when Patrick got his jeans open but his cock is suddenly right there, hard as David’s and sliding along the crease of his ass. He whimpers pitifully, because he’s got no leverage like this, can’t grind down on it or get it where he wants it - Patrick just holds him there, pinned and helpless. “Please - _please please please_ , Patrick - _oh_ \--” David cries out as the head of his cock slips into him, so easy from David’s prep, his head thunking against the door as he squirms in Patrick’s hold. “More - fuck, give me more.”

“Oh, more? Come and get it, then.” Patrick’s voice is teasing and light, as if his chest isn’t heaving and his cock isn’t twitching to be buried in David’s ass.

David growls in frustration, squirming and writhing and digging his nails into Patrick’s shoulders just to try to get him closer.

“Oh, _right_. You can’t. You’re just gonna have to,” - a thrust, slightly deeper - “take,” - deeper still - “what I,” - _almost there_ \- “give you,” - God, _finally_ , he’s nestled to the hilt inside David, and David can’t keep quiet, can’t think straight, just _wants._

He’s fucking him then, thank God, really fucking him, hips slapping against David’s ass loud and filthy in the foyer of their home. Patrick re-adjusts and shifts one of his hands further towards the back of David's knee, using the leverage to lift his leg even higher up and leaving him with absolutely nothing to hook onto, while his other foot presses urgently into the small of Patrick's back.

Patrick's hands grip his thighs tight enough to bruise; David can’t wait to press his fingers into them later. He’s keeping him spread open, sandwiched between his body and the door - he’s right, all David can do is take it and gasp and shout as he drives into him over and over. There’s something about this position that feels like he’s splitting him open, raw and stinging and _ohgodsomuch_ ; he can't get away from it, every snap of Patrick's hips pushing him up the door while gravity pulls him right back down so he feels him in his gut, Patrick's cock claiming him with every thrust. 

"You really like this, David," Patrick breathes out, and it's not a question - he sounds smug as all hell. David can't argue.

Desperate, he tugs and shoves at Patrick’s shirt, managing to pop the first few buttons, and incredibly, Patrick lets go of him with one hand, shifting his weight so he can _still fucking hold him up_ while the other hand tugs the offending shirt over his head. 

“ _Yes,_ oh my god, you’re so hot, you’re so fucking hot,” David babbles, drinking in all of that gorgeous pale skin, every single muscle pulled taut as he keeps David safely off the ground. He moves his hands instantly from Patrick’s neck to his biceps, grabbing on for dear life as Patrick fucks him harder into the door. He expects to feel him straining, shaking, to feel how much he’s struggling to support David’s weight - but all he feels is warm, solid strength, his muscles _bulging_ beneath his hands and his cock throbs desperately. 

Patrick’s letting out guttural grunts into David’s neck, his outgrown curls tickling David’s jaw, and he suddenly shifts him further up the door, letting his cock hit a different angle and _fuck_ now he’s brushing over that sweet spot, David’s thighs beginning to tremble.

“Wait--” David laughs, breathless and out of his mind but still vaguely aware of his surroundings, “the - the door handle, it’s digging into my back,” and Patrick laughs with him, adjusting his hold and lifting him clean away from the door - he’s actually _carrying him_ , walking a few steps with his dick still hot and hard inside him, and he instead shoves him up against the wall just inside the entrance, a blessedly smooth surface behind David’s back.

“Better?”

“Yes - Jesus Christ, you make that look so _easy_.”

“I mean,” Patrick gives a pointed thrust into him, pinning him firmly against the wall with his body weight so he can free one hand up again, this time to wrap it around his leaking cock. “It is pretty easy.”

David moans wildly and bucks his hips as much as he can when he’s trapped like this, Patrick stroking him fast and tight just the way he likes, and he’s dripping on his sweater but he can’t bring himself to mind. “I’m not gonna - I can’t, Patrick, not gonna last,” and Patrick just slams into him and _grinds_ his hips, balls pressed tight against David’s ass as he knowingly rubs the head of his cock over his prostate, and David cries out and comes between them, all over the fucking sweater.

He’s dazed, skin buzzing pleasantly as Patrick starts pumping into him again, fast and purposeful, biting down at David’s shoulder as he comes and comes and comes inside him.

Patrick’s arms shake dangerously beneath David’s grip, and he slips down the wall a little. “Patrick--” he warns, but it’s too late, he yelps as Patrick’s legs give out and David half-slides, half-falls to the floor, both of them crumpling unceremoniously into a heap as David’s head bumps the wall painfully. Patrick’s giggling, but he’s petting at David’s hair and his back and everywhere he can reach, either apologising or checking him over or both.

“Okay, so - maybe I need a _little_ practice at that part.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! As always, please do leave a kudos/comment if you enjoyed. Love hearing from you guys. <3


End file.
